Prime Time Action
by kathiann
Summary: Third in my Dream Series after 'Bull Ride' and 'Gun Battle'. We all know Marshall's in love with Mary, what if she loved him back? Not as 'M' as my other stories, but still, it's there.


**Authors Note:** Third in my dream series. This can be read on it's own, but if you'd like to read the others it goes "Bull Ride" and "Gun Battle". Thanks to bujyo for the beta, she was able to do it at the last minute, very helpful. Not as 'M' rated as most of my 'M' rated stuff, I don't think. Writen for day 22 of the Month Of Mayhem over on the Mary/Marshall board on LJ

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, sadly, cause it's just getting painful for Marshall.

**Prime Time Action**

Marshall was tired, this was not unusual. But it had been worse lately. Mary had been acting odd around him, and their regular banter, for lack of a better word, had been off. It was as though she was nervous to be around him, but that didn't make any sense, she had never been that way before, except when they were first partnered. The nervousness then, more like subtle tension, was due to two things: the first being her not knowing if their partnership was going to last; the second that she thought that he, like so many of the other men before him, just wanted to get in her pants.

Was she maybe projecting her desire to no longer be partners with him? Had he done something that he wasn't aware of that had sparked a desire to leave him? Or was she thinking that he just wanted to get in her pants. There was no way that she knew that he loved her, and besides, it was more than just a desire to sleep with her, it was a desire to be her everything.

He grabbed another beer out of the fridge and went to sit on the couch. Really, he shouldn't be drinking tonight, not that one beer was really drinking, but still. He'd eaten take out at the office, but that had been ages ago. He should just go to bed, but his mind was too awake to let him rest peacefully. But the drinking; that was something he tended to only do when Mary was involved. Even if it was just a beer and not hard liquor.

He stared at the dark screen of the TV in front of him. He'd planned to watch a documentary on the making of old westerns in the Southwest, but had missed it because he was at work, with Mary, solving some sort of problem with one of her witnesses, and dealing with her weirdness around him. He wondered if he'd remembered to set it to record on his DVR and felt lightened when he checked and saw that he had indeed remembered.

He quickly took the rest of the 6 pack out of the fridge and settled in to watch the show. It was about half way over; the narrator discussing the movies made in the red rock country of southern Utah, when he thought he ought to stop drinking. Marshall knew that his tolerance for alcohol wasn't the best, and with the three empty bottles sitting on the table in front of him he was looking at a hangover waiting to happen, but he just couldn't help it. The alcohol would dull the ache that was often left when Mary was in his mind and help him sleep. He shrugged as the narrator went on, and opened the fourth bottle. It was Sunday tomorrow; all he had planned was an early morning trip to the gym, he could drink all he wanted.

He hadn't even realized he'd drifted off until the pounding on the door startled him awake. _What that hell? _He stumbled up to answer; apparently he hadn't been asleep long enough to get rid of the effects of the alcohol.

"Oh, holy Jesus. It's about time you opened the door. I was about to break it down."

"Mary, great to see you, come on in." Marshall said as she pushed past him.

"You know, I've been thinking lately—"

"That's never good." She shot him a look that he just ignored and kept talking.

"I've been thinking, how long have you been in love with me?"

"What? I—it's not that, well, what?" Marshall found that his mind wasn't able to focus, that he wasn't able to articulate how he was feeling, what he was thinking. She knew? She knew he was in love with her? For how long? And more importantly, was that why she had been acting so oddly?

"I know you're in love with me. I've known for a while. Were you just going to let me make the worst decision in my life without telling me what you're feeling, that you love me?" As she was talking she was pushing him backwards, never really touching him, but getting close enough to make him want to retreat. She had started pushing him down the hallway towards the bedroom.

"I—"

"That's it, you've had your chance to talk. We've been partners for how long? Oh, it's my turn now." What had gotten into her? This wasn't something he would have expected in a million years. She kept advancing on him until the only place to go was into the bed room.

He was still trying to think of something to say that would be more than one syllable when Mary pushed him down onto the bed, and before he even had a chance to think she'd pulled his arms above his head and he heard the distinctive clink of handcuffs securing him to his wrought iron head board.

"What the hell?" He was trying to decide if he was angry, scared, or just horny. He was leaning towards the first one, but the other two were also putting up a good fight.

"You've had a chance to make your move, Marshall, now it's my turn." His fear was quickly overcoming anger now at the look in her eye, especially when she lunged at him. He tried to pull back, tried to protect himself from whatever she had planned, but what happened was nothing he'd ever expected.

It took him just a few seconds to realize that she had straddled his lap and was kissing him like her life depended on it; as soon as he figured it out he started kissing her back, giving everything he had to the kiss. He moved his lips across her, relishing the unique taste of her. He nibbled gently on her lower lip, causing her to moan before slipping his tongue into her now open mouth.

He was just getting used to the feel of her in his lap, touching him, and was beginning to really hate the handcuffs behind his back when she pulled away and stood up. "So, what do you think?"

"Huh?" She wanted to talk now? After that?

"You've gone on for years not saying anything about loving me; did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same way?"

Anger, frustration, and a good dose of horny were the emotions that Marshall was feeling now. "Yo, Gabba, Gabba." Mary gave him one of her, _what the fuck are you talking about_ looks and he started talking fast to explain. "You're gabbing at me now? You've got me handcuffed to a bed, completely at your mercy and you want to talk? Are you serious?"

"Oh, you don't like hearing me talk?" She had that look again, and Marshall was beginning to think that fear was the emotion he should have hung onto. "What would you rather have me do, Marshall? Did you like kissing me? Did you like me sitting in your lap? I bet you did."

The look on her face was definitely one of a predator, and he knew he wore a corresponding look of prey as she stalked towards him.

He watched as she slowly began to unbutton her shirt, stopping just before it was open enough to reveal anything more than a tantalizing hint of skin and lace. Still, he could feel himself responding and wondered again what it was that she wanted from him, what it was that she was going to do with him.

"You know Marshall, I heard somewhere," she moved close to him, and undid the top button on his shirt, "That guys who were big belt buckles are compensating." She undid another button on his shirt, then another before speaking again, reaching the last one as she talked. "I've always wondered if that was true with you."

"What? No—" he started talking, but then she bent over him and brought her lips to his as she smoothed her hands over his now bare chest and tweaked at his nipples, not hard, but just enough to make him try to arch into her touch, unable to move much due to the restraints on his wrists.

The way she was accosting his mouth, her tongue melding with his, battling for dominance, he almost forgot her hands on his chest until he felt them brush against the front of his jeans. At his strangled moan, Mary pulled back and gave him a Cheshire grin.

"Shall we take a look at your Little Bill?" Her hand was on his belt and he struggled to focus.

"Little Bill?"

"Would you prefer one-eyed wonder snake?" she asked almost flippantly. When he looked at her with a mystified look she rolled her eyes at him. "Your dick, dumb ass."

"But, little _Bill?_"

"Yeah, cause Little Marshall just seems wrong." He hadn't noticed while they were talking that in addition to unbuckling his belt, she'd also managed to undo the button and the zipper on his jeans. He gasped when she reached her hand into the gap left in his pants and felt his penis, already mostly erect and growing harder by the minute. "Though, little anything seems inaccurate."

All he could do was nod. She smirked up at him from where she was sitting beside him and reached for the waist of his pants and boxers. She started to tug at them, and he lifted his hips to allow her to slide them down to his ankles where she left them; not taking them off all the way and effectively trapping his legs, keeping him from being able to move his legs much at all.

"Wow, Wow Wubbzie. You've been hiding this from me all these years? How have I not noticed?" Before he could answer, her hands were on him, grasping him firmly, but softly. The feel of her surprisingly soft and smooth hands causing him to moan.

"Like that do you?" she asked; all he could do was nod. She stroked him up and down several times while her other hand came down to cup his balls gently, squeezing with just enough pressure to cause him to pant in pleasure. Just when he thought that it couldn't get much better, and that she was just going to tease him, she lowered her head and took him into her mouth, sucking slightly and swirling her tongue around his tip.

He let out a strangled groan as she took even more of him into her mouth, struggling against the handcuffs on his wrists and the pants tangled around his ankles; trying in vain to gain some sort of control over her movements that were driving him crazy. He tried thrusting further into her mouth, but was stopped by Mary placing a firm hand on his abdomen and another on his legs. Every time he tried to move she applied a bit more pressure with her hands and a bit less pressure with her mouth.

He decided to just stop struggling, instead focusing on the sensations of her mouth on him. As soon as he did that, she let her hands and arms move a bit, sliding up and down his body, caressing and stoking his balls and chest, eliciting moans from him. The things she could do with her tongue, and her hands, and even her teeth…

"Mar, oh God, Mary." He could feel the pleasure building, knew he was close, knew that he was going to come, but couldn't say more than her name, in a praise or a curse he wasn't sure, but this, this pleasure was more than he'd ever thought was possible. He tried to look at her, but watching her work over him, watching the way her hair hid her face, and then trailed over his abdomen was too much. He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the release that never came.

_What the hell?_ He opened his eyes and was only mildly surprised to see that he was still on the sofa in his living room, and that his handcuffs were still sitting on the table by the door where he'd placed them when he came home.

He looked at his watch, almost 6:00 AM. Earlier than he'd like to be up on the weekend. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep on the sofa, and that he'd had a sex dream about Mary. Ok, so the sex dream he could believe, but the falling asleep on the sofa? He shifted slightly to test just how sore his muscles were and groaned as the bulge in his jeans pushed against the zipper.

First thing on his list of things to do this morning: a shower to take care of that problem. Next thing: the gym to work off all his pent up desire for Mary. Not that it ever worked, but it gave him something to do, and if he was lucky, he might just meet someone who could take his mind off of her, even if just for the afternoon.


End file.
